So, This Is How I Died
by TheRoseShadow21
Summary: 'There was no way for me to imagine that I would end like this'. Drabble one-shot, Izayoi POV. Spoilers for Mirai-hen EP9, character death. Rated T to be safe.


**The title of this is slightly modified from a quote 'So this was how you died, in whispers that you did not hear.' It's attributed to Ernest Hemingway.**

 **As for the fic idea itself...I don't even know. It's centred around Izayoi's last moments, his POV of them, and lines of this came to me almost fully formed. But mostly I don't even know, as I got the idea in the middle of the night when I was trying to get to sleep a few days ago. Because, you know, that's how life works =P. But anyway, the next evening, I wrote what lines I had already come up with, then sort of added to that and changed things around and yesterday, I finished it. And so here you have this very abstract drabble monologue-type... _thing_. It's a bit strange, I know, but I enjoyed writing it a lot, so I hope you enjoy reading it too! Please leave feedback if you can :)**

* * *

It takes a moment for me to realise it, but this is familiar.

The explosion of sugar, the harsh jangle of the bracelet, taunting me as I feel everything tighten. The unexpectedly sharp pain of poison making its way around me. It is familiar. Physically, I have never been poisoned before. So this shouldn't be the case. But all the same, it is. For this, the sugar and the tightening and the sharpness-it feels like the moment faith shatters.

And you and I, haven't we been familiar with that for the longest time?

We've been through a lot, even before we ended up trapped here. Over and over, your faith and mine, it's been shattered. Over and over, in countless different ways. I should have expected that here, yet again, was another chance for something else to shatter, in yet another way.

Not like this though. Not like _this_.

There was no way for me to imagine that I would end like this, sugar heralding poison, painful and tightening, taunting me. I couldn't ever, ever have imagined that these things would follow on from your kiss, your warmth and the soft sweet scent of strawberries.

Why would I have? _How_ could I have?

It is _you_.

You, who I dedicated my life to on one sunny day when we were young, who has always been with me, who makes my favourite sweets and knows me better than anyone. You, the one who endures everything with me, who makes everything worth enduring.

 _You_.

But life is draining from me and the pain is increasing, and the fact is undeniable. It _hurts_. But watching you, torn up and twisted by all the other million shattered pieces of your faith and life-that hurts more. So much more.

And this, I know, is not the last feeling I wish to take with me.

So I kiss you again, cut off the tearstained explanations you struggle to give, hold you as close to me as I can, taking in your warmth, the soft sweet scent of strawberries, everything about you that I can still imprint on me.

It does not turn back time, does not halt the tightening of my entire body or allow me to breathe a little easier. The pain is still there. And yet, with you in my arms like this, it's okay, it's not as bad. I can endure it, knowing that the sharp feeling of being poisoned won't be the last thing I'll take with me.

If this were a slower death, I'd kiss you for longer.

But since it is not, I have to let you go. Because before I leave, I need to leave _you_ with something. Because this life has always been about you. You, who I've known for longest, who knows me better than anyone, who has always been with me, who makes everything worth enduring. There is no point in taking one last memory of you, if you cannot have a final kinder memory of me. If I cannot at least try and assuage some of the hurt my death will cause you. So instead, I pull away, and use the last of my strength to speak.

" _That's…not a betrayal."_

It _isn't_. Perhaps in the most technical of terms, stripped to the barest facts, it is. But people sitting at screens and desks deciding facts and coming up with definitions-what do _they_ know of anything, really? They know nothing of us. You did _not_ betray me. This is not a betrayal. I won't let you think that it is. Admittedly, I was shocked. And now, there is a little part of me that is disappointed. Disappointed that in the end I was not enough to quieten the demons that had flared up in your head again, disappointed that this game won. But that doesn't matter, because….

" _I understand."_

Of _course_ I understand. I've known you for longer than anyone else. I was there when it happened, that horrible day, the source of all your demons. I dedicated my life to you after that, on a sunny day not long after. There is no way I _couldn't_ understand.

" _It's okay, Ruruka."_

If not now, then eventually, one day, it will be. Because in a way, I was prepared for this. To die for you. I promise you, it will all be okay.

" _I love you."_

I do. I always have, and always will. Even now, finally, as I flatline and everything ends, I love you. And afterwards, I still will. It is presumptuous to assume that I already know where I'll go next to be able to think such things. But it is true, and always will be.

Because it is you. You, who had the sweetest laugh, who smelled of strawberries and who was so warm. You, who I dedicated my life to on one sunny day when we were young, who has always been with me, who made me my favourite sweets and knew me better than anyone. You, the one who endured everything with me, who made everything worth enduring. You, the first person I loved and last person I ever saw, and the last memory I'll ever have.

The one piece of my faith that will never, _ever_ shatter.

You.


End file.
